Wednesday, May 27, 2009

At times I wonder, if it is possible for a mother to love one child a little less than the other. Its really a question that keeps coming back to me. Maybe because I am an only child, or maybe because my mind has nothing better to do. Whatever the reason, this question does nag me.

Both my kids are so different. The daughter- sincere, loving, open.. a chocolate that I can't ever have enough of. The son- a master story teller, always in motion, a brat with a smile to die for and a laugh that resonates throughout my house. He is my coffee, my daily stimulant. I can unwind with my daughter, relax in her company, read a book, share a moment, draw pictures together or just lie in bed listening to her talk softly about her day. I am perpetually on my toes with my son. Relax is probably a word he and I can't use when we are together. He pushes me to my limits. Every time I feel I have him in my grasp, he manages to climb the branch just above my reach.

Apparently for everybody who knows this family, I am partial to my daughter. Obviously, because all they see me do is shout my life out at my son. I am either running after him, or threatening him, or lashing out at his untidy work. I myself am not sure. Its true that life is easy with Toshali and quite difficult with Soumya. Its also true that after a long day when my son sleeps peacefully, he evokes emotions that are beyond words. If I admire sincerity in one, I have to admit that I admire boundless energy in the other.

Both are my eyes, both are my dreams. One a river flowing gently, the other a ship on high seas. Is it possible to love a dream less? I still am looking for answers.

Sunday, May 24, 2009

She was all of 18. In college. Had recently lost her Dad. An autumn leaf. She loved to read. Had always liked poetry. Too sheltered an upbringing. Suddenly on her own with her rose tints still on. Her world had revolved around her dad. She was getting to know her mom. She clung to his memories. She lived in a dream. She continued her love for poetry. A whimsical girl not ready to be real.

He was 32. A charmer. A poet. A lost soul. Married with a kid. An accomplished wife - lively, beautiful and ambitious.

He was looking for validation. She was looking for love. She put his words and him on a pedestal. She did not see right from wrong. She did not want to believe in conventions. She was in love. Love knows no bars at 18. She felt like a rebel. She felt he needed her. She believed his marriage was coming apart. She was ready to give up all.

He was cautious. He was playing. He was proving a point to his wife. He was rising from the ashes of his insecurity. He wanted it all. She wanted just love. She fought with her mother. she called her practical, devoid of emotions, a robot without feelings. She didn't care that her mother had no more tears to shed. She was too full of her love. Love can be selfish, it can be all consuming, it can be ruthless, it can also be timid, double edged, sneering.

An ordinary day. A phone call. Not from him. But a friend. News that her calls to him are the joke of the office. He plays recorded phone conversations for all to listen. He massages his ego. He flaunts the love of a young girl carelessly on his sleeve. He feels like a man. She talks to him on this. He evades her. He has no answers. Her tints come crashing. For the first time she looks at the sun. for the first time she allows her eyes to get used to the blinding light of truth. She feels used and cheap. She feels dirty and exploited. She feels alone and lost.

One last meeting. She has to start afresh. She needs no answers, no justifications. She just needs closure. failing steps to a house that was once so dear. The bell that often was rung in joy, today rings in its shrill pitch. The face that was so loved, today stands devoid of its charm. An ordinary man. A thunderous slap. A flood of tears, Raging eyes. Silence and the door closes. An era closes too. Innocence is lost at the wrong door. A lesson for life.

A very common tale. But the hurt is real. The saddest part being that she was no kid. The story cannot be therefore categorized under the various forms of abuse. The story is afloat for the readers to decide. She was 18 and he was 32.

Wednesday, May 20, 2009

Yesterday started off normally enough. I managed to get both my brats ready on time for their school bus. Came back to the house and saw that the hubby was almost ready to leave for work. Just as he was almost out of the door, I remembered an important thing that I had to mention else it would be late.. "There's no grocery." and a little later and a few decibels lower.. "not even rice." Carefully note the positions we were in.. He was outside the front door and I was inside ready to close it any moment. The look that followed was enough to burn me in hell if it was the age of righteousness. Thank god for sinners and kalyug. No time so the verbal assault didn't follow.. lucky me! I even managed a grin, he just turned and left. Please note this situation is not a first time thing in my house, I generally am very efficient and consistent in forgetting the basic things till the very last moment. I blame it on my genes.

Well after the peaceful parting of the morning I had my coffee and then started with whatever work had to be done around the house. by mid morning I was feeling quite guiltless and managed to call up the hubby at the office with a plan.

ME: "You know, I was thinking, that the kids and me will manage lunch with whatever is there..."

HE: "Whatever is there meaning??"

ME:"Oh you know, we love maggi, there are eggs, I can boil them.."

HE: "Huh.. hmm"

ME:(knowing that he was still pissed off), "I was thinking we could probably eat something outside for dinner and then do the groceries."

HE: "I have a football match today."

ME:" Ok, yah, after the match, we will be ready to leave as soon as you are home."

HE:" Hmm"

That was so simple. I was relieved. The mood was great I even made a list of stuff that needed to be bought, as a practice I don't do it... but this time I did, a nice systematic and proper list.. no wastage of time at the mall. It was almost time for my son to come home.

The bell rang and I opened the door. And what have I got in front of me? My 6 year old, thin as a stick boy, with his shirt, pants, belt everything in place except his undies, which he is proudly swinging on his fingers. My brain fell dead. Alarm bells of all varieties going berserk. My eyes must have spewed venom. For I noticed that his pride was instantly transformed into something akin to a sheepish look, which was again quickly followed by his eyes looking to the floor and then behind him to see if he was going to be spanked in front of his friends or alone, because by then he must have been sure about the outcome of his actions. Being a good mom and a funny one is alright, but yesterday was different. I pulled him in with such a jerk that he started his story immediately.

HE: "Mamma, I didn't do this."

ME: "Who? who? who did this then? who did this then?" I was shouting so loud, my throat actually hurt.

HE: "No , no mamma , wait, I'll tell you..I mean.."

It was clear by his look that he was fast thinking of a suitable tale which would calm my nerves, but was being totally at a loss of either a tale or words.

HE:"Yah mamma, actually I did susu in the pants and so.."

ME:" Who are you fooling big man? your pants are dry, and even if you did.. what made you remove your undies in public? Don't you have any shame? What were you trying to prove? Is this what has been taught to you? And why on earth were you swinging that blasted thing on your fingers?"

By this time I was feeling drained of all my energy and my throat was getting dry. I was also realising that I was hugely over reacting. And didn't know how to back track. So was quiet for sometime and started to fiddle with his school bag. He obviously took this opportunity to be a good boy and bolted for the bathroom. I felt like a having a cool shower myself. Instead took a few deep breaths and told myself this was not a panic situation and my son was not a roadside romeo yet.. there was still hope. He came out after his bath looking like an innocent victim of some tragic drama, and kept giving me 'I adore you mamma' looks. So then I again in a normal voice tried asking what had made him do what he did? With the room much cooler now and he in between spoon fulls of maggi told me that he was trying out what Govinda did in a flick we had seen a few days back on dvd, some old movie that he reminded me I had found immensely funny. Even laughed out loud when Govinda did the same thing on screen. So that was it. End of conversation and a stupid look on my face till the point my son finished his maggi and went to take his nap.

Then it was the daughter who returned from school. This was easy. she came in and started off with all that had happened at school, including how easy her test was that day. Finally she was done with removing her school wear and getting into nice cool home wear, and we both sat down for our meal. My kids really love maggi. And she, poor thing thought that I had made it as a surprise treat for them, instead of the daily rice and fish routine. I just smiled and remembered to add maggi to the grocery list.

Switch to evening.

Son gets up. he and I do his homework in peace and he goes out to play with his friends who by the way give me strange looks as they wait for him to join them. Anyways forget. Tommorow is Toshali's last exam, and its computers so hardly much to study, shes already done with her homework and revising for the test. Meanwhile Hubby comes in from work and is happily greeted . He doesn't show any memories of the morning. Gets his foot ball gear in place has a glass of lassi and says while he is leaving, "Will be back in 2 hours be ready else will be late, tommorow is a working day." Before I can reply, he is out of the door. So I now sit with my daughter to question her for her test. And quite unlike her..she looks all lost. This was seriously a bad day for me. I give her some more time but again nothing.. the same confusion and blabbers instead of confident answers.

ME: "Whats wrong? Tommorow is the test, why on earth are you clarifying your doubts with me now? haven't we made a timetable for each subject? doesn't computers show up in that?

SHE: I didn't study thinking it was easy. Practicals is so easy but theory I cant put in words the steps to use for formatting a document.

ME: "Obviously if the entire day you are sitting on the comp watching Hannah Montana videos and stupid musicals, how on earth will you find theory easy? Why didn't you sit with me before?

SHE:" Iam sorry."

Smart kid, knows exactly what will make me stop. Hmmmmph !! Well cant say much to that so ranting and raving I had to do the entire portion with her from scratch. In the meantime hubby and son had long returned. Hubby was insane with hunger,(football on grass field !!), was sitting on the couch with a box of cookies, and the son was overjoyed by my shouts, which were not directed towards him this time. So he kept running around the rooms in a frenzy. And kept giving a running commentary of the happenings of the study room to his dad. This was further aggravating his sister, who I think started scheming on ways to get back to him rather than what I was teaching her. So she became noticeably slower. By the time this bout of frenzied running and studying and cookie eating finally ended it was almost 9:00pm.

I had a quick dosa in mind and then the list of shopping. Mind you my day had been exhausting and I didn't even change into a proper outdoor kind of dress. All of us just went and sat in the car. Hoping for a quick meal. And where does the car stop? right in front of an extremely posh kebab and curry place that has a proper sit down buffet, and all the suitable elegance associated with it. This was the cherry. the kids needless to say were overjoyed, middle of the week treat. Hubby was hungry so kebabs were the thing on his mind. I was looking like a bai and feeling mighty upset.

ME: "I am not suitably dressed for this place."

HE: "Whats there to dress, we have come to eat".

ME:" Yah but still, I was thinking dosas and grocery.."

HE: "I am not thinking groceries at all"

Well ,well, well, Finally though we did have a super dinner, am not too much into dressing up, so the thought went out quickly from my head and I started enjoying the meal.

Finally all's well that tastes well!!

Please note, by the time we finished it was quite late and more importantly after that meal we could not have walked down aisles to save our souls. So just managed the rice and went back home. So my list is ready for today evening.

I am still a bit old fashioned and like doing the grocery in the company of the hubby. he shops, while I head towards the books section!!

And I also have a feeling that I have just managed to lose the "greatest Momma ever" award or even the "Best Homemaker award"!! Maybe if there's a category on self mockery..hmm just a thought!!

Sunday, May 17, 2009

This trip did not need much planning. Just a free weekend during the winter and we were good to go. The bookings for the stay had to be done a few weeks in advance as dune bashing is a popular venture here but not many places offer it.

Wahiba Sands is what the place is called. And it's about a 3 hour drive from Muscat. So a thursday morning saw us get onto our cars and head towards the golden dunes. The roads all over Oman are impressive and surrounded by majestic mountains. The 1st hour of the drive went off smoothly with the kids being busy eating all the snack they had managed to load in their rucsacks. The hubby was enjoying the drive and me the music and the quiet in the backseat. But that was just the first hour.

"How much time more?" said the son and my bells started ringing."Another 2 hours at least." "How much is 2 hours?" Hubby chiped in..."Its a very long time.. so look out of the window and watch the mountains." "What are we going to do when we reach there?" This was the daughter, and I had to rack my brains to come up with a game instantly else this was going to go beyond control. So I suggested we play antakshari. Happily singing songs whose tunes had just our copyrights and that only we could understand we went along the road. Hubby meanwhile was trying his best not to miss out pointers.. the next hour or so went by.

Then a point came where we had to forgo the freeway for the desert terrain, so the wheels were deflated slightly while we got down to stretch our legs. The next 45 minutes or so of the drive was an experience in itself.. wild camels walking peacefully by our car, friendly almost sad eyes looking at us through the windows. This needed a halt definitely, so we stopped got down and saw the camels persistently refuse a drink of lemonade that was being offered to them by the kids.

Finally we reached the camp..

The rest of the evening, after a quick snack of fresh fruits, and some sandwiches followed by 'kahwa' which is the local brew in this part of the world, was spent literally rolling in the sand.

After around 2 hours of this rolling on the dunes, we came back to the camp with a raging appetite. The camp was equipped with good bathrooms and warm water, so the days work and pleasure were washed clean and the appetite further raked. What followed was the most sumptuous desert feast ever, varieties of barbecued meat and vegetables being done so tender that they melt in your mouth. The breads on offer were equally divine and so were the cooling desserts. The meal was being accompanied by Omani folk songs which are quite lilting to the ears.

By the end of the meal, it was almost dark and very quiet. Apart from the inhabitants of this camp, which came to around a maximum of 20, there was no one in sight for miles together. With just the moon and a sky full of stars and the desert chill, I sat outside the tent with a bottle of water and my peace, as the kids and the hubby slept peacefully inside the tents.

The next day started early, with a light breakfast and a quick shower. The tyres of our 4wds were further deflated to do the dune bashing. This was exhilerating to say the least..to climb up a steep wall of sand and then drive on the summit was an experience in itself, the kids clamouring for the view and the shouts of mirth were made the entire trip worthwhile.

Saturday, May 16, 2009

Hey everybody, this one is for all those of you who were interested to know how the talk went the other day..

The Doctor was a Gynaec-Obstetrician and also a professor at the medical college here. Being a teacher made her an extremely good communicator and she just went with the pulse of the kids. There were a total of twenty kids, all girls, their ages ranging from 9 to 14 years. The elder ones were extremely shy and conscious to begin with and more so as their mothers were sitting right next to them. This made me realise that I had done right in taking my daughter at a younger age for this talk, before she gathered information from peers that cluttered her mind and made her shy. The younger ones were soaking it all up. The questions were slow to begin with but then the kids opened up and how!!

She had made a very good and informative power point presentation which was projected on an empty wall. The facts were all there, very simply stated. She encouraged the mothers to talk about their experiences and taught the kids how to tackle inconveniences. The topic of harassment and eve teasing were discussed at length and the kids were made to realise that its perfectly ok to say NO to anybody or anything that didn't make them feel comfortable. common examples were taken up and each child was asked how she would handle it. I was happy to see that kids today are a secure lot, they are no longer shy of elders and neither hesitant to be firm with them. This part of the program was interactive and an eye opener for the moms. Many of us for the first time realised that most of our kids have already encountered some form of harassment.

At the end of the 1 and 1/2 hour talk the kids and the moms were given pamphlets and handouts and also her contact numbers.

It was an extremely healthy and positive session and on the walk back home from this lecture, my daughter really opened up to me.

For all the parents who have gone through and responded to my previous post, I hope this post shows the route that you and your child can take together.

Wednesday, May 13, 2009

I always believed that I was great at communicating with my kids. This belief was held strong because my kids talked endlessly to me about everything under the sun. From their teachers to their classmates, even shared their follies and foibles with me. I prided myself on this rapport with them, until my daughter started to grow up and I got immense cold feet at the thought of talking about 'the birds and the bees' to her. I pepped myself up each day and practised my lines in front of the mirror. Wondered endlessly about ways of broaching the subject. Talked to my cousin, who shared her wisdom with me quite generously. We even came up with a line..which went like this, "God made women differently, so that they could shower their kids with love. For this a woman's body is different and a store house of love, ahem !! ahem!! and so she has to bleed every month! " Phew..I know it was a total non starter, but can't blame us for trying. And yet when I came face to face with my 9 year old, I fumbled and failed miserably. It was pathetic, I chided myself and coped with untimely wit from the hubby saying.."Maybe you should blog it.. for the kid to read and get the picture!!"

Needless to say my communication skills had failed me at the most important point of my as well as my daughter's life. I saw mothers talking to their daughters about issues ranging from sexual abuse to periods with the ease of making toast and omlette. And all I did was practise my lines in front of the mirror... what a dimwit really!! This was a serious thing, and I hated to see myself fail. I cursed the school which did not bring up sex education until class 6. Did they not know that smaller girls were molested each day and also that the intake of protein being higher now, had brought down the age of menarche? How I wished she would pop a question to me.. somehow I felt that would make it easy, but all she talked about was Hannah Montana.. Dear God!!

On noticing the fact that she avidly followed my blog posts, I did consider the option of blogging about 'coming of age'. But then it was such a defeat. Imagine having to talk to my own daughter through a blog!! I did try to broach the subject by bringing up the topic of boys.. yah I know it's way too beyond the line.. but what the hell.. I was trying at least. But the conversation stopped even before it started.. boys were quite silly and yukky, and they smelled awful after the soccer games, when they came to class. Well what do you say to that. Then I started on another plane.. asking her what all did she and her best friend discuss apart from studies and homework and of course Hannah Montana? To that she said, "Films, at times we talk about the latest films". I pounced on that and asked her what she thought about the ways of the filmstars.. and she said they were cool!! I knew I was failing again and stopped myself from blabbering further because I noticed that my 6 year old son was taking way too much interest and my daughter was losing interest as quickly.

After having struggled like this for more than a few months, finally I decided to gather a bunch of young girls in the age group of 9 to 13 and their clueless mothers to form a group. Called up my gynaec and asked her to give the quintessential talk. So today evening, I and a few mothers like me would sit with our daughters and listen to the Gynaec talk about things each girl has to know and know right and from a proper source. I would be definitely focusing on the communication part. I am also hopeful that this exercise will open further channels of conversation between my daughter and me.

I would not be surprised if my daughter has already 'googled' the topic.

Saturday, May 9, 2009

The mercury has shot up to almost 50 degrees. Even the sunset does not quell the heat. There is no reprive apart from staying indoors in an air conditioned environment. I guess I should not complain.. no power cuts, no water shortage, The kids commuting to their school in Ac coaches. But then again there is more to life than being indoors.

It seems like a summer from another life, when kids played the entire day with other children. All wearing white vests and knickers. They gathered at a friend's place and made jugs full of rasna. Dilligently mixing all the sachets and the small glass bottle with its tight plastic cap that at times needed teeth to pull open. The stirring of the sugary water and the rasna ingredients had a magical charm, that is missing in the bottled lemonades of today.

A shower later the tiny bodies all white with prickly heat powder gathered again to play house or just throw a ball around. Certain afternoons were spent watching a grandmother make delicious mango pickle in the inner courtyard. Salivating mouths in anticipation of a lick. The eager hands ready to help, the admonishing gestures from the grandmother. Does seem like another life.

There were escapades that mothers didn't worry about. A group of kids climbing and stealing mangoes from trees that had been leased out. The watchman running after with a stick, kids shoving the loot in their vests and the run away and beyond. The breathless laughter, the scraping of the mangoes on rough cemented walls. The bite into it's sour flesh, at times lucky to have managed a bit of salt in the pocket. Mothers those days were not worried about infections or a tan from the heat. It was ok to be dirty and brown.

The best part being the evenings when all the kids watered their respective terraces and gardens. The plants soaking in the cool water and the attention. The kids were allowed to play with the hose pipes, drench themselves and the lawns. run muddy legged into the house dripping water all the way to the bathroom. After towelling dry and more of that prickly heat powder, hair combed and parted neatly, the bucket of water soaked mangoes was a treat for all the senses. To sit in a circle around that bucket and choose your pick.. a delight as sweet, if not more than any alphonso mango.

Nights were usually under the stars, The watered terrace, now cool. the gentle and soothing breeze from the Neem and Mango trees. The sky boundless in its stars, the moon peeping in through the white mosquito nets. Stories of fairies and demons. Castles won and princesses saved. Counting days left until schools reopened. An end to yet another fruitful and adventurous day. A promise of endless more such days to come.

Yes summers from my childhood in Baroda, Gujarat does seem like another life.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Often I wonder, If the things we tell our daughters are the things we would really like them to take to heart and follow. Or are we just carrying on without thinking, a timeless tradition of rules. As a daughter, and a kid, It was grilled into me that I am in no way less than any of the boys I study with, or play with. Being the only child, I had no competition at home. But mom was dexterous in finding enough competition for me outside. Studies being of paramount importance to the generation I belonged, I had to ensure that I was amongst the cream of the class. Her reason being, "So what if she's a girl? What difference is there between a girl and a boy in today's world? Girls can beat boys in any stream they choose to. They have the capacity to shine as much as the boys do." It was all good, this feminism and strife for success. But just a few years down the line, her lines changed. Now it said things like, "Career and all is fine, but you are a woman, a homemaker. Your foremost priority is to nurture your family and bring up good kids. You have to be the wind beneath your husband's wings, push him to reach heights. After all this if you have the time left in your hands you can do something work wise." Now this got me utterly confused. Here was my mother, who made me score the highest in each subject to outshine the boys of my class, only to tell me later that I got to be the wind beneath their blasted wings?? What about my wings? The ones I had carved based on her faith in my capacity?

This is not only me, but the feelings of a lot of women who are my contemporaries. We were brought up on the myth of feminism and the moment we were set to fly, our wings were clamped to the role of a model homemaker. Believe me, I have nothing against being a homemaker. Its the most gruelling and the most thankless job, if ever there was one. Also the most soul satisfying hugs come from here. But the training for this job is not what we got. The mindset was not made, We were not taught how to adapt to a new family, a new household, we were told to compete with boys and win. Careerist role models were pointed out to us. Indira Gandhi and kiran bedi were pointed out to us. Why didn't my mother let me take a closer look at her lifestyle?

I am a mother now and and maybe on the threshold of repeating the same mistakes. I see the world changing around me, from the time I was a kid. Now probably marriage is beyond the realm of parental influence. to marry or not, when to do so, if at all , and with whom, is a decision that I am sure would not include me. Life is becoming tougher and the family is taking the brunt. But I hope that I stay away from giving my daughter confused theories about feminism. I am a staunch believer in the roles of man and woman. They were made different for a reason and they remain their best when they perform the roles they were intended to. Does that mean A girl should not pursue a rewarding career? Or does it mean that a man can never be a homemaker? It doesn't mean either. It just means that each individual should be equipped to do whatever it takes to overcome hurdles and live life to the best of their ability. It just means that you should be in a role that's most suitable to your core as a human being. To lead a life that gives peace and contentment at the end of the day. I hope I educate my daughter for the bliss of knowledge and not for a thriving career that she might have to unwillingly sacrifice at the altar of marriage.

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Have you ever bullied someone? In the school fields? In the school bus, some junior at college? These were how my thoughts went as I lay with a book last night. I kept going back and forth the cobwebbed corridors of my memory, but could not cite up even one incident, where I had bullied someone. I got up, drank some water, and went to my daughter's room, she was awake still, reading a book. I asked her,"Have you ever been bullied at school?" The question was such because I cannot fathom her bullying even an ant to go the other way. She said, "Not exactly bullied mamma, but many a times I have had to do things which I didn't like because some senior asked me to in a stern voice.. Well that's not exactly bullying, now is it mamma?"

"No it isn't dear", I said and walked back to my bed. I have seen bullying and have always felt that the bullies were themselves insecure. Strong bodies, insecure souls. Why else would you gang up against a poor kid going home from school and snatch his bicycle and make him race you, knowing very well that there is no competition. Why would you threaten a small, frail boy to fist fights and blows, unless he did your homework for you. Why take away the spectacles from a kid and play 'catch' with it. I have never seen any mirth in any of these actions, have stood up quite a few times against them when in school. Though in later years, I have ignored many such instances that have crossed my vision due to inexcusable reasons like apathy or hurry.

I have also wondered at my son's behaviour time and again, his bullying nature towards his sister, who is three years older to him has caused a lot of reactions at home. Initially I thought that aggression was part of his nature, but on going to his school and meeting his teachers, I found that he is the most shy and least aggressive boy in class. Therein I found my answer.. In an eureka moment it was clear to me. The actions of my son and the various other bullies. Yes they chose their victims with utter care, only the ones that are weaker temperamentally and physically are bullied. In the presence of a stronger or equal opposition the bullies keep low. yes that was there insecurity, bullying was there feel good factor. An insecure day at school, a ridicule, or even getting bullied himself, could well be the reason of my son's actions towards his sister. That made me wonder, If I was right in taking the side of the apparent victim of a bullying session.. maybe I should have showered attention on the bully instead, maybe he was as frightened and desperate not to show. We were all kids after all and no kid can be framed.. he has a long road to travel.

By this time it was pretty late, and I kept worrying that if I didn't sleep now, I would invariably be late for waking my kids in the morning for school. And just as I was trying to count mental sheep to initiate the process of sleep, did I see myself bullying. Yes, I was a bully too, I who prided my self as being the most non violent person, time and again bullied coolies and rickshaw wallahs, for petty sums. I shouted and screamed at railways stations for a discount of 10 or 20 rupees. I haggled mercilessly with auto wallahs for what? the fun of it? I was so awake and so upright on the bed that moment. I had chosen my victim well too. I never dare to haggle at the fancy showrooms with their goods displayed with obnoxious price tags. Why? Because I feel powerless in that atmosphere. But a poor coolie whom if I pay an extra 10 rupee would probably bless me and my family, with him I am rude and insensitive. Under what, I thought till that moment was, standing up for my rights.. I was in fact bullying a fellow countryman.

Well needless to say, sleep did not come for the rest of the night.. and I finished the book I had started.